Stolen
by eyeshield21
Summary: One simple thought could break up the 'perfect newlyweds' Ron and Hermione. Once again Harry Potter is left with a problem only he can solve, but what means more to him? His uncontrollable desire, or the relationship of his two best friends? HHr.
1. Stolen

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, there would be an eighth book just for the purpose of getting more money. **

* * *

It was a beautiful day. 

A perfect day.

Harry should've been happy. For himself. For them.

A sad smile adorned his face as he realised the unacceptable truth. He was happy that his two best friends were getting married, but it was not the way he wanted it to be, it wasn't even how it was _meant _to be. They were getting married to each other, while he was just on the side lines. He saw the audience laugh to themselves as they watched Ron, who was next to Harry, stammer through the words of his vows - vows which made his mother cry, vows which impressed the wedding guests, vows which pained Harry to watch them make Hermione happy - vows which Harry helped write.

He looked across to the other side of the wedding, and stared back at the _Maid of Honour _for the wedding, Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister. She blushed through her make-up, as she looked nervously back into Harry's gaze, quickly looking away. Harry knew the reason, it had been five years since he defeated Voldemort and ever since then the only times he had ever gotten back together with Ginny was through a failed month-long relationship and a string of one-night stands to follow. He thought to himself how nice she looked in her gown, but though she tried to stand out, she was no match for the beautiful best that Hermione looked that day.

Harry was no expert on clothing, or hair, or make-up, but he did know when a girl looked beautiful, and on that day, Hermione was looked especially elegant.

"Ronald Weasley," Hermione spoke, in her matter-of-fact tone that she used back in Hogwarts to lecture them, a tone that made the audience giggle to themselves about. Harry turned to the bridesmaids, opting to ignore Hermione's vows, unable to take the stinging words of her exclamations of how much she loved his best friend, he wanted to distance himself from the moment as far as possible, before the last heart-wrenching stab of the whole 'traditional muggle wedding', as many of the awkwardly dressed magical guests called it. The only one of Hermione's bridesmaids that Harry knew was Ginny, but the others seemed to be friends from different places, like her work at the Ministry and her other acquaintances. On the other hand Harry knew most of the people standing up with him on Ron's side, they all worked with Ron and him as Aurors. Turning to the guests, he looked at the surpisingly properly-dressed Weasley family at the front row. Mrs. Weasley was crying her eyes out, and Ron's many brothers sat proudly, watching the youngest of their brothers having his special day, while there was a spare seat at George's side reserved in Fred's memory.

Harry took a deep breath as he realized that the wedding was almost over, and that through his day-dreaming he had missed most of it. He looked to the priest conducting the wedding, and he knew that it was nearing the close of the procedure - the one part which Harry felt that he could almost not go through with. Harry had been there when Ron and Hermione admitted their feelings for each other during the _Battle of Hogwarts_, he had been there after the first time Ron and Hermione had gone for a real date, he had been there when Ron proposed and he had been there for the engagement party - but he was always on the sidelines, never involved. And once again, he was on the sidelines of the wedding. Finally, Ron said his 'I do', and Hermione prepared to say hers.

Strangely, Harry noticed something which confused him. As the priest of the wedding began directing more words at Hermione, she had a tear running straight down her face, and she was staring straight into Harry's eyes, not towards Ron like she was supposed to. Harry could not escape her gaze as she stared at him, as if she was seeing right into him, her eyes looking almost apologetic, and he was sure that she was thinking the exact same thing he was. He remembered the memory with his sad smile still plastered on his face, as he watched Hermione look back at him and utter the words that made him almost burst out of control.

"I do."

And as the priest began asking if anyone had a good reason why Harry's two best friends shouldn't be married, Harry knew that he had every reason to speak out, but no right to do so. He thought over all that had happened over the past few years, and Harry came to the conclusion he had been running in circles looking for. He closed his eyes, and the one painful thought entered his mind as Ron brought Hermione closer for the sealing kiss.

'It should've been me.'

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**A/N: This is just me trying something different. Just an attempt. **

**Might continue if I get a review or two. For those who watch it, it was inspired by Scrubs. **


	2. No Way Back

Chocolate. 

Chocolate was the key, and was currently Harry Potter's number one priority. If there was anything he had ever learnt from his countless visits to Madam Pomfrey's wing it was that chocolate was an 'all-purpose cure', one he hoped to cure the deadly hangover he was currently suffering from.

He staggered through his small London apartment - his head was pounding, his eyes were barely open, his vision was hazy and as he passed by a reflection of himself, his black hair had done the impossible and become even messier than before, an apparent stubble had grown overnight, bags were under his green eyes and he was still dressed in a crumpled, white, dress-shirt and suit pants which seemed to have grass stains on them.

All would be explained when he got over the hangover. Which reminded him to get chocolate.

He practically dragged himself to the fridge, forcing it open, and scanning for the much-needed chocolate. He realised that it would be hard because his vision was hazy, not only from the after-effects of alcohol - but he wasn't wearing glasses. Grabbing a half-eaten chocolate bar from his fridge, he chewed happily, still trying to retrace his steps.

He mentally recapped what happened - last night Ron and Hermione were married, after the ceremony they went to the Burrow, which was not to far from the muggle church, and then they had dinner. George hired himself as bartender, and Harry remembered drinking away his misery, doing something, drinking, dancing with someone, drinking - and then drinking more. His head seemed to have pulsated as he grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge to join his quite tasty medicine.

"How did I get home?" Harry asked out loud, wiping a milk moustache off his face, looking to the clock conveniently placed above his fridge and realizing that, once again, he was late for work.

He quietly vowed to himself that he would never, on any terms, drink that much again - but later corrected himself - he was probably lying.

He ran towards his room, quickly finding a brown Chudley Cannons hooded jumper and black track pants, along with grabbing a bag containing his Auror robes - it would be awkward walking out onto London streets wearing wizard robes, and he would have to drink even more to forget about that one. 

As he slipped on his hooded jumped over his dress shirt he sighted red lipstick on his collar, and he immediately knew that whatever he had done last night wasn't going to be good news to him.

- -

**Chapter One **

**No Way**** Back**

**- -**

Water ran down the plane window, as Ron nervously had a tight grip on the armrests. He was shivering wildly, while Hermione tried her best to calm him down.

"Relax Ron, it's only a plane flight." Hermione said calmly. "It'll be over in a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours? A lot can happen in a couple of hours Hermione!" Ron almost shouted, but Hermione immediately put a finger to his lips. "I don't have as much faith in muggle technology as you do - remember what happened to me and Harry in that devil car during our second year?"

Harry. The name struck Hermione, as she shook her head, trying to get the thoughts of what happened the previous night out of her mind. "You remember our promise, right Ron? Muggle honeymoon, wizard life."

"And I'd promise you the world if we just apparated now and got it over with!" Ron replied.

"Ron -" But Ron didn't allow Hermione to speak.

"Hermione, I -"

"Listen to me now Ron. It's going to be fine - you're the man in this relationship, and remember that." Hermione said, and Ron nodded in reply, the expression on his face changing, before smiling towards Hermione.

"So, why are you wearing that muggle jumper? It's not that cold." Ron asked, mentioning the green turtle-neck Hermione was wearing.

"It gets cold on planes." Hermione said nervously, adjusting her collar. "Ron?"

"Yeah?" Ron asked, noticing the serious look on Hermione's face. "What's up?"

"I love you." She said, almost a bare whisper, so only he could hear.

"I love you too, Hermione." Ron replied, confused, as Hermione began to get up. "Where are you going?"

"To the toilet." Hermione replied, and Ron looked worried.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Ron asked and Hermione just laughed as she walked down the aisle, before quickening her pace and locking herself in the small, confined space. She held her face in her hands for a moment, before looking into the mirror and lowering her collar, revealing the bruise-like mark on her neck. The 'hickey' was what had occupied her thoughts for the past twelve hours, not being able to even go to sleep after the incident at the wedding dinner - the incident between her and her best friend.

She lent against the wall of the small space, closing her eyes as she remembered his soft touch against her skin, his moist lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, his warm breath on her cheek, and then when he - she had to get the thoughts out of her head. It was killing her, and she realized she had reached a point in her life where she could not return from - she was married, but found herself having confusing feelings for the wrong man.

She was going to need serious amounts of chocolate to cure this.

- -

"What the hell are you playing at, Potter?" Seamus Finnigan burst into Harry Potter's office, as Harry looked up from his desk, his glasses almost falling off his face.

"I'm writing a report on the vampires we encountered in Ireland." Harry said tiredly, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, before putting them back on and asking as politely as he could, "Why did you burst into my office Seamus?"

"Don't act all high and mighty on me, Potter, looks like you just arrived." Seamus said angrily, waving a finger at him.

"I arrived an hour ago. Your office is quite far away from mine, you might've not seen me come in." Harry stated, scribbling down more notes - in truth he was just drawing a crudely-drawn, stick-figure, of a Dracula-like vampire being stabbed with a stake by another stick figure wearing Auror robes. It had sound effects drawn around it too.

"So we're just going to pretend, are we?" Seamus fumed, at Harry's blank expression. "Pretend you don't know what happened last night, am I correct?"

"Well I got drunk, for one." Harry stated, dropping his pencil to his desk - he preferred to use it rather than a quill. "And then somehow I got home, I woke up with a hell of a headache, and now I'm here."

"You don't remember at all? You were drunk?" Seamus asked shocked, as Harry simply nodded.

"Why, what did you see me do?" Harry asked, curious, Harry normally found that on the few rare times when he did get drunk there were no ill-effects, as he just woke up in the morning with a hell of a headache, and that he usually would recollect the events the next day. He hoped today was no different.

"You mean what did I see through that window?"

"Window? I thought the dinner was outdoors."

"Apparently all the action was inside." Seamus's words came out bitter and greatly confused Harry, as he thought quietly to himself.

"What did you see?"

"I'll let you figure it out for yourself Harry, and when you're ready I'll leave you to tell Ron." Seamus slammed the door on his way out, and Harry cursed as his fellow Auror walked away from his office. Just as he slammed the door a memory was triggered inside his head, an image - accompanied by a woman's voice.

Luscious, red lips, and a lustful whisper in his ear - "Harry, don't stop."

He knew that voice. It was unmistakable, and he felt he had known it for years - but of course, before he even came close another question popped into his head.

What was her name again?

- -

"Hermione –"

"I can't believe you left your passport behind!" Hermione said angrily to Ron, who tried his best to look innocent.

"How could you expect me to even remember what a passport was?" Ron asked, attempting to use his wizard-ignorance to his advantage.

"I asked you if you had it with you when we got on the plane, I told you to double check -"

"I pretended to know what it was because I didn't want to make you mad." Ron whispered back, and Hermione's anger turned to laughter, smiling understandingly - one of the reasons Ron married her.

"At least we were able to Confund him without anyone seeing." Hermione replied, mentioning the unfortunate man who happened to request the missing passport.

"At least we made it to Paris." Ron grinned. "This is what you wanted, right?"

"Most of it." Hermione said, looking down at the ground - the turtleneck was causing her to sweat.

"Do you think we should buy souvenirs for Harry?" Ron asked, looking down on the shorter Hermione, who immediately turned away nervously. "Or send a card in a couple of days?"

"I don't think Harry would like us to spend our honeymoon thinking about anything but each other." Hermione turned back to Ron, a fake smile on her face, and Ron nodded, agreeing with her.

Hermione herself was faced with a question she didn't know if she wanted to be answered - did Harry even remember, and if he did how could she face him the next time they meet?

- -

"More Firewhiskey, please." Harry said, slowly downing another glass of the quickest and cheapest way to once again drink away his misery.

"What's your problem?" The bartender asked, refilling another drink for Harry.

"Complicated, Aberforth." Harry asked, talking to the much older man. Though he was Albus Dumbledore's brother, talking to him was much different than talking to his former headmaster. "Friends."

"More complicated than trying to convince the Ministry of Magic to not send you to Azkaban for inappropriate charms used on goats?"

"Possibly." Harry said, and Aberforth just smiled and coughed, moving along to clean some dusty glasses.

"Let me take a wild guess, Harry – more distractions?" Aberforth asked, and Harry looked at him curiously.

"Distractions?"

"That was your problem, wasn't it? When something big comes up, you just let distractions get in the way?" And then suddenly, another trigger sounded and a jolt in Harry's head told him that the memories of last night had all come back to him. And yet again, with an answer, came another question in the form of a whisper.

"If Seamus was outside the window, then who was behind the door?

- -

_The Previous Night._

The wedding had been enjoyed by all, the dinner was cooked by Mrs. Weasley and her many 'helpers', and the night consisted of eating, drinking and what some people would call 'dancing', but what other people would call 'pure drunkenness', if that was even a word.

Harry made his way off the make-shift dance floor in the middle of the Burrow's backyard, an almost-empty wine glass dangling in his right hand. He was pleased to note that the tuxedo he had bought had no stains at all, and that the contacts that he had worn especially for the event had not fallen out.

"You sure you don't want to get back on the dance floor, Harry?" Hermione's voice caused him to turn his head, and Harry looked to see the new 'Mrs. Weasley' smiling at him, in a more 'practical-sized' white dress, having changed out of her long gown.

"I'm fine." Harry replied meekly - the less he said, the less of a chance the alcohol had of forcing him to say things he really shouldn't. "You look beautiful." Once again, the alcohol had found the chance.

"Thank you." Hermione said, her understandable smile on her face, as Harry breathed deeply in relief. "You're looking rather dashing yourself."

"I'm glad you think so." It may have been either the alcohol or his ego speaking - but Harry had to agree with her. He had paid a good sum of money for his suit, and the muggle Armani suit was going to be made worth the cost. "You look beautiful too." And Harry cursed himself inside. "Sorry."

"At least now I know you really mean it. These shoes are killing me, and I don't care what the whole Weasley family think, but I don't like my hair tied up in a bun like this." She said, and Harry was actually quite happy she was confiding in him, and trusted him. Finally, Harry found himself saying words he wanted to say, but knew he shouldn't – figuring he could cover up the next day by saying that he was drunk.

"Hermione, can I talk to you?" Harry asked, and upon looking at Hermione's confused expression, he expanded. "In private."

"Why, not enough alcohol out here? You look like you've drunken a bit." She gestured to Harry's almost-empty glass, and Harry just blushed.

"And you haven't?"

"Point taken." Hermione said, but gave in. "Alright, come with me to the kitchen inside the house, I need to get a knife anyway to cut the cake." Harry willingly followed Hermione across the garden, past some of the dinner tables and into the house, before finding their way into the kitchen, one in which he remembered seeing the older Mrs. Weasley cook food for him a very long time ago. "What's up, Harry?"

At that moment, it was like a time bomb was slowly ticking away in Harry's head, as he knew something big was about to happen - if only he knew how to stop it.

"I just wanted to talk inside, it's a little loud outside, with the people and music and all." It was a feeble attempt at an excuse, and Harry knew it.

"Alright, let's talk." Hermione said, dropping the search for a knife, as they both moved to lean on the kitchen counter, next to each other. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

"What?" If anything he had expected her to say, this was on the bottom of his list.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing in marrying Ron?" Hermione restated her question, but Harry had understood her the first time.

"You're already married." Harry corrected her, and Hermione looked down at the ring on her finger with a frown.

"It's complicated." Hermione replied, and Harry found himself asking a question he was sure Hermione wouldn't expect.

"Do you remember back in our third year, our first kiss?" Harry asked, and Hermione smiled.

"Of course I did. And then you promised me afterwards that -" But Harry interrupted her, not wanting to hear his failed promises.

"Do you ever think we were actually perfect for each other, but we just had the same flaw?" Harry implored further, and Hermione knew what he was talking about.

"You mean how when something big comes up, we let distractions get in our way?" Hermione asked. "But not this time - this time there are no distractions at all to stop me." Her voice sounded as if it was hopeful, waiting for something to happen, and by some silent agreement Harry and Hermione moved closer, feeling the warmth of each others breath on their skin.

The last thing Harry remembered seeing was Hermione's red lips, as he softly placed his hands on the back of her neck, bringing her closer to him, her lips meeting his, with no resistance. Her hands found their place around his back, and she kissed back, as what was a few seconds seemed like a million years. His right hand moved through her hair, gently caressing it, before removing what was keeping it in a tight bun and letting it free – the way both of them liked it. Their tongues danced, and they continued to kiss, knowing that they had crossed the line, knowing that this was the true point of no return.

She wanted nothing more than him at that moment, and he wanted nothing more than her, as they passionately explored each others mouth, expressing feelings that could not be shared between words. She surprised herself when she moaned into his mouth, until finally, she unwillingly let him part their kiss, as she caught her breath.

"Harry, we can't." She barely whispered, and she knew that she wasn't saying it because she meant it. He kissed her cheek softly, delicately, as he began a trail of kisses down her cheek, and towards her neck. The feeling of his moist lips on the flesh of her skin caused her to arch her neck, exposing more to him, and at that point, she slowly came to realize that neither of them wanted the moment to end. "Harry, don't stop."

A mixture of combined feelings, the most predominate being lust filled the air, as the straps of her dress had already come down, his coat was to the floor and his buttons were being undone by the nervous fingers of Hermione. He stopped kissing her flesh, when they both stopped for a second to stare at each other.

"Harry, I lo-"

"Words are just words, Hermione." Harry said, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "We both know how we feel." And Harry placed another soft kiss on her lips before she uttered the jinxing words.

"I don't want this to end."

But it was inevitable. The position they were in was not a good one – Hermione her hair a mess, her dress half-off, and her leg wrapped around Harry, feverishly undoing his buttons, whilst Harry, almost-shirtless clutched Hermione tightly towards his body. A slam on the door brought the two of them back to reality, and they both turned to see the door shut, knowing that someone had seen them.

"What are we thinking, Harry?" Hermione said, breathing heavily, resting her head against his shoulder.

"We both know what you were about to say before I stopped you." Harry replied. "That's reason enough.

"I think I should get the knife." Hermione said, as Harry reluctantly let go and she grabbed the kitchen knife, before tidying herself and beginning to walk briskly towards the door.

"Enjoy your honeymoon." Harry said, knowing this would be the last time he would see her for a while. She turned to him, a tear down her face, before saying her farewell.

"Goodbye Harry."

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**A/N: **How long has it been? A while I guess.

The ending of this chapter is sort of based on the Sixth Season Finale of Scrubs, and yeah, it was quite a different type of chapter for me to write.

To answer one of the questions in the reviews - Harry didn't say the statement at the end of the last chapter out loud, and if he did no one heard it. I might continue this one, but like always, it depends.

This chapter came to me one day, after looking through my old stories, and it may seem a little dodgy but I hoped you enjoyed it.


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